This is the story of Rakhee

Whose sighs made her seek

The melody of the unseen musician, God.

 

Everyone in this world has his story,

His own memory and his own fears.

Rakhee too has her own story

Where joy and sorrow are woven fine.

 

Angel-faced, body as soft as grass,

Heart as green as emerald

Rakhee, mother of three sweet children

Had a husband who started courting

Wife of another.

 

Sweet-tongued was this intruder

In the peaceful life of Rakhee.

She used to wear low-necked

Red satin dress flounced with lace.

Her laughter was loud and careless,

Her behaviour immoral and

Her body tempting to touch.

 

Rakhee, an ocean of peace

Had strength in her mind.

She never said a word to her husband.

She continued caring for him

In the same warm and faithful way

As she had been doing

For the past ten years.

Ten years is a long time

In the life of a wife,

In fact, they are the most difficult days

Where a wife has to fight against

All odds to prove herself.

 

From questions, answers flowed in her mind.

She thought that the hard and the strong will fall

And the soft and the meek will overcome.

 

She had faith in her husband.

She was sure that the better half of her heart

Would come back to her.

She remembered having read in the Holy Bible

That if one had faith

Like a grain of mustard,

He might say to the sycamore tree

To be plucked up by the root

And be planted in the sea

It would obey one.

Rakhee’s days were long

And night renewed her world by calm rest.

The healing balm of time

Nursed her wounds

And rearranged her dominoes.

 

At the peep of dawn,

Rakhee moved out of bed

As softly as smoke rises up.

She listened to the sea’s moans

Which made her yearn for something

Beyond the love of her husband.

She sat down meditating for an hour

Sometimes meditating on Shiva,

Sometimes on Parvatee and very often

Her energy was channeled

Towards Mother Durga and Mother Mary.

 

As soon as she heard small feet pattering

And wooden shoes clattering,

She rose up ready to attend

To her daily chores.

 

In this way, another ten years passed.

One day, the intruder in her life

Was cooking breakfast on a kerosine stove.

The stove exploded, her nylon clothes caught fire

And she was burnt to death

Leaving an infant son behind.

 

Rakhee melted with grief

And grew moist and soft with tears.

She pleaded to her husband

To bring the orphan home.

 

Her husband looked at her

With eyes as wide as the sea.

He realized that among all

The women God had created so far,

Rakhee was among the best.

 

He knelt down, held both her feet,

Put his heavy head on her knees

And wept tears of a child.

Rakhee, with tears flowing down her cheeks,

Helped him rise up and said softly,

‘Swami, It’sme who has always fallen

Down to touch your feet,

My heaven lies around your feet,

Swami, please do not hurt me

By lowering yourself so much.’

Hearing these words, Rakhee’shusband

Almost fainted in her arms.

He started crying even louder.

 

Rakhee, like the oak

Expanded her immense and knotty arms

And held her husband tighter.

Listening to his heart

That was beating close to hers,

She gazed at the lilies being blown by the wind

By the mountain that loomed ahead.

 

pramila khadun